Originally posted by Sikboy
Flash forward to 1992, and I'm in the Navy, statioined at Monterey California. A few of my friends are really into surfing, and I decide to give it a shot. I'd paddle out there, no problem. Then I'd sit and wait for a wave.... big problem. I just can't get it out of my head how tasty I must look. I only went out twice, and was constantly in a hurry to try and get a wave to ride back in.
Here on the Gulf of Mexico, the only real surf we get comes from hurricanes and tropical storm. The bad part of this is that these storms also create really strong currents that push all sorts of deep-water stuff into the shallows.
When I was a kid, my brother and I would go belly-surfing on some inflatable canvas rafts in water that was maybe 5 feet deep, if even that. We'd ride it in until the raft grounded out, then turn around and wade back out into the surf zone and catch the next set of breakers. We'd do this for hours on end until we got hungry or our nipples couldn't take it anymore, whichever came first.
So we'd been at it for an hour and the surf was really pounding strong (for the Gulf coast) with a strong shoreline current running parallel to the beach. I'd caught a good ride in and stood up to walk back out to the breakers. I was up to my knees in whitewater when
something big and slimy brushed up against my leg. I felt this
something twitch and swim back along the shoreline just as I was giving the "WTF?" face.
I stood there, trying to decide whether to go in or go out.
I went back out. But after a few more rides, just to prove I wasn't a wimp, I went in. It wasn't until we were settled over a bowl of spaghetti-O's that I told my brother about the
something that hit me.
I've been surfing since then and haven't had any bad things happen (other than the time I stepped on a sea urchin). I think that was the last time I really had a scary moment on the water.
